


Off-Kilter

by loveatthirdsight



Category: Gintama
Genre: Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Male-Female Friendship, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-06 01:06:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5397161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveatthirdsight/pseuds/loveatthirdsight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's more to her than what meets the eye. The problem is, nobody cares. Sacchan-centric, post Shogun Assassination Arc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Off-Kilter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saboten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saboten/gifts).



> Sacchan is one of my favorite characters in Gintama. But it's difficult for me to write her in any of my GinTsu stories because her devotion towards Gintoki is a strong component of her personality. I also dislike writing love triangles. So I decided to write this for her.
> 
> This is kind of a dark-ish, introspective work.
> 
> Also, hooray for my 20th entry in the Gintama a03 fandom archive! Please leave a comment if you enjoyed reading my works!

There's more to her than what meets the eye. The problem is, nobody cares.

BDSM wasn't exactly something Sarutobi had envisioned to become one of her future obsessions back when she was a kid. It just simply fit her personality as she grew up, an easy way to deal with the psychologically fucked up aspects of her job. Maybe some part of her wanted to be punished for all the hurting she did - a way to atone for her sins as a shinobi.

She didn't care to analyze it too much; all that mattered was that it made her feel good. It turned her on, released base urges, and gave her a hobby - a sick hobby-slash-fetish, but a hobby all the same. If Kondo-san could waste his money on ugly chicks (read: Otae, that two-faced bitch) at a cabaret club, who was to say that her hobbies of stalking Gintoki was weirder? Double standards, really.

And regarding Gintoki: His rejection never hurt her. She enjoyed the constant pursuit (in more colloquial terms: stalking). In all reality, she wouldn't have known what to do if he'd even budged one inch opposite from admitting he was repulsed by her.

She liked having the same result over and over. It was reliable. Consistent.

On the other side of the equation, her profession was unpredictable. Unstable. And there were no loyalties in her business either.

In all honesty, the dysfunctional relationship between the two of them suited her just fine. They balanced each other out, after all.

* * *

 

Neither Zenzou or her shed tears at Shigeshige's "official" funeral.

It wasn't that they didn't care.

It was just the weight of it all; the numbness of the situation couldn't penetrate the defenses they'd already set up to deal with regarding death.

And yet Sacchan, who could be provoked to scream at the smallest insults, became increasingly silent.

For the first time in a long while, she was tired of  _everything_.

* * *

 

She couldn't wake up and shake it off like she usually did. Something in her had fundamentally shifted.

Priorities had been re-arranged, somehow, in her head. For three weeks after Shigeshige's death, she hadn't taken one step inside Gintoki's loft. Somehow it seemed ridiculous to her that she had spent so much time near the proximity who didn't care for her presence, and little towards the people who really mattered.

Like a lot of things, she found that love was blind. Or maybe it'd been a simple case of lust. She didn't care to figure out the details either way.

She had been commissioned for a few jobs after she healed from her injuries, finishing them all mechanically before deciding it was time for a break.

For some reason, it felt like a perfectly fine idea to ask Zenzou if she could crash in one of his spare rooms so she wouldn't have to worry about paying rent. She'd been moved there once after sustaining heavy injuries, and it was fine then.

He agreed, much to her relief and was a bit surprised when she came to the front gate pulling a small suitcase and holding Gin-chan, her body pillow.

"It's comfortable," she said defensively as he lifted an eyebrow. "I can't sleep without him."

"Right..."

He gave her the key and told her that she was free to stay as long as she wanted. There was a spare futon in the closet.

Left alone, Sacchan finally let out a big sigh.

* * *

 

 _I'm wound up too tight_ , she told herself.  _I just need to relax for a few weeks. It's not like I'm going through a big existential crisis or anything._

But over and over again, she would examine the wound in her heart.

The death of Zenzou's father, her master who taught her everything worth knowing. Her comrades, dying through the years. Now her childhood friend and leader of the nation was gone. Cremated now, with his ashes spread away in the ocean.

Her career as Edo's Number One assassin began to feel hollow. Many times she had convinced herself that the money paid for a killing job was perfectly acceptable. Shinobi ethics for good reasons were obviously different from civilian laws. It was the nature of the job. You didn't survive as long as she had in this field if you started to think too deeply about what you had to do. But now the arguments rang empty and instead of holding answers, she was full of questions - questions that she had not asked when she was younger.

This was the first time she had completely doubted her skills to protect what was most important to her. And though she knew in an abstract way that it had been wholly unpreventable, the fear could not stop spreading through her mind. It ate away at her, the guilt she still carried around as the last talisman of her childhood friend.

_I can't do this. I don't know what I'm fighting for anymore._

She spent the first few days in a daze, fixing small meals at her leisure and simply taking the time to breathe. Zenzou's place had good security, so for the time being she could afford to relax and not worry if someone else was aiming to kill her. After all, the Shogun was dead. There was no reason for anyone to target an almost washed-out assassin.

When she went out to the adult video store, she felt utterly ridiculous, and felt relief coming back to her empty room.

* * *

 

"What's the matter?" Zenzou asked after inviting her for a round of drinks at the ugly girls club. "You've been really spaced out lately."

Sacchan took a sip of her bourbon absentmindedly. "I dunno."

The ice clinked in her glass. "I guess I've been trying to figure out what's the point of us shinobi. We're useless."

Zenzou contemplated this before taking a swig of his whiskey. "Is this about...  _him_?"

Neither of them dare mention Shigeshige's name. Sacchan nodded.

"Believe me, I've been trying to figure that out ever since I got my first assignment."

"Then why do you keep doing it?"

"Hey, if it runs in the family..." Zenzou shrugged. "I'm not like a samurai - I adapt to what I do best."

"I guess I'm more like a samurai, then." The alcohol numbs nothing; just depresses her even more.

After a while, Sacchan leaves the club and since she's still in Yoshiwara, she enters a massage parlor that Tsukuyo has recommended to her for the type of services she's looking for. Playing a masochist almost feels like she's going to a confessional.

The whippings of the riding crop feels better than anything she's experienced lately, but it's still not good enough.

* * *

 

Though Zenzou is her boss, he never treats her like a subordinate - which is well and dandy as it's hard for her to take him seriously anyway as a person. Professionally, when they're on jobs, it's mostly a cordial respect between the two in front of clients. When they're by themselves, he ends up insulting her, she sticks something into his ass (non-sexually). So they pretty much know everything about each other, which is why he can sense the changes in her as easily as a cat walking through the shadows of night.

Something is fundamentally missing inside of her - he can tell that much. In general, Sacchan is upbeat, a little too enthusiastic for her own good, and always  _loud_. Now, she's the complete opposite of that.

And though he was loathe to do so, Zenzou paid a visit to the Yorozuya with a hefty request on his mind.

Unfortunately, Sakata Gintoki looked at him with disgust not too long after.

"You're telling me after weeks of peace in my house you want  _me_  to see that sicko? No thanks."

"I'll pay you."

"Why?"

" _Because_ ," Zenzou said. He couldn't elaborate on much else other than that.

Though Gintoki couldn't exactly see his eyes, he was much more perceptive than most gave him credit for. He hated turning down cash, but this wasn't something he wanted to negotiate.

"Sorry," he said bluntly. "I can't do that. I've just finished paying off the TV that she ruined a while ago."

"I can get you another one if you just see her - "

"I'm definitely not interested," Gintoki said firmly. "Besides, if she wanted to see me she would have broken into my house either way. It doesn't matter if I see her or not."

* * *

 

 _You really can pick 'em_ , Zenzou thought bitterly as he exited his way out the Yorozuya's apartment. What wouldn't he give to not be in love with such a violent woman who had such bad taste in men...

He'd meant every word he'd said to Sarutobi as he nearly died back in the days of the Shogun's assassination.

But she'd forgotten them already, hadn't she?

 _I'm still here_ , he wanted to say whenever he saw her walking aimlessly around his courtyard, her eyes blank behind her glasses.  _I'm still alive. I know you better than anybody else._

* * *

 

"What should I do?" he asked Okuni one fine summer's day. "I want to help her become normal. Somethings wrong with her."

The child prophet was reading the latest copy of  _Shonen Jump_  with a box of pizza next to her.

"Hmmm... you'd have to pay me in gold before I tell you  _exactly_  how your future pans out," she said bluntly. She turned a page with a greasy finger. "But I can give you vague predictions."

"But I don't know if I want to know," he said.

"Keep your heart open," she said cryptically. "I read this quote in a shojo manga once - the only way a man can open himself up to a woman is if he is tender to her."

"That's pretty deep. Oi, that's too insightful for a girly manga."

Okuni flipped another page. "Just be patient. That's what the fates tell me."

* * *

 

"Help me deliver pizzas," he said to Sacchan.

She looked sleepy and he could tell her eyes were red. "It's 3 AM, Zenzou."

"I can't carry six boxes all at once," he said reasonably. There was a time where the two of them were routinely burning the midnight oil together as shinobi-in-training. "You need to get out of the house more often, Sarutobi."

He could feel her wanting to retreat, back to somewhere safe. It scared him. This wasn't her at all.

"I'm fine," she said. "I just need time... you know?"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm okay." There was a weak smile, which did nothing to reassure his worry. "Sorry, Zenzou."

* * *

 

He woke up to sobs in the middle of the night.

His first instinct was to kick down her door. But that wasn't his style, really. She prided herself on taking care of herself - like many female shinobi, they had all been cultivated with a sense of independence. She might have taken his concern as condescension. And he was in no mood to get hurt again as he had in the past.

Instead he knocked on the sliding door. The muffled sobs instantly were quickly stifled.

"Sarutobi? You all right?"

There was a moment of strained silence before she replied, "I'm fine! Just - just PMS, that's all!"

"Right. Just checking on you."

He forced himself to walk back to his room where he promised himself he wouldn't bother her again until the sun came up again.

* * *

 

She was careful not to let him hear her cry again. Now it had been a month and a half since she set foot into his house - an apartment complex, really - and both of them were treading softly around each other. If Zenzou was a more generous man, he would have appreciated how shinobi-like their bond was becoming.

If he was a samurai, he might have said something like this -

_Lean on me. Haven't we relied on each other since the beginning of time? Now all we have is each other, now that the world has turned upside down. You can't let Shigeshige suddenly dictate how bleak this cold world is. I killed my best friend, after all._

But he knew ninjas were cowards, and so they could never really say what was on their own mind.

* * *

 

She finally broke down one afternoon. He'd gone grocery shopping and found her struggling in the kitchen on her knees, hands helplessly clutched to her throat. Zenzou could tell she was hyperventilating and thanked God he'd arrived on time.

"I can't - breathe - " she gasped, her chest rising rapidly, her mouth breathing and exhaling air too quickly, too dangerously. "Hah - ha - h... a ... "

Quickly he began rummaging through his cupboards, furiously searching for a paper bag for her to breathe into.  _Fuck_! Where did he keep them? Did he even had any?

After several agonizing seconds he found a brown bag and urgently told her to calm down. The bag swelled back and forth as Sacchan kept exhaling, inhaling.

_Breathe, baby, breathe._

Within minutes, her trembling shoulders eventually subsided. Zenzou breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thanks," she said quietly. "I don't know what happened - I just... "

"It's okay," Zenzou said. "Actually, it's pretty common for people like us to go through these types of things. I was surprised it didn't happen to you sooner."

He calmly threw away the paper bag, helping her get back on her feet.

"Did you... ever... ?"

"Yeah. Like I said, it's normal for people like us."

It didn't erase the worried expression on her usually beautiful face. "One moment I was normal - then I didn't know where you were - and I tried! So hard - I tried so hard not to panic, and it wasn't worrying, and then - I started to panic - those thoughts just came crashing down, that, you know, I wouldn't be able to protect... my friends. I didn't protect the Shogun and... _you nearly died_... and I - didn't know what to do - "

Her voice broke off. Tears formed in her eyes.

"I know."

"I didn't use to be like this," she said quietly, sniffing. "I sound so  _stupid_. And weak."

"It happens to the best of us. I think you'd better get some more sleep."

"If it's all right, would you mind just watching over me? I don't want to feel like that again."

"Okay."

* * *

 

"I dream a lot about being sucked into black holes," she whispered. "And when I get out on the other side, there's a bunch of people waiting for me whom I let down. They never say anything to me, but I know that it's my fault, all the same. I see their faces staring straight at me, and I can't say anything to them."

She slipped inside her the futon, her lavender hair messily crumpled against her pillow. Zenzou thought she looked strangely beautiful, right up to the beauty mark underneath her eye.

"Do you think I'll ever get better?"

He nodded. "I'm sure you will."

Sacchan closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

 

This became a normal routine in the evening. She would slip into her room and he would keep a quiet watch over her before she went to sleep, and then he would walk back to his own room quietly. He was in no position to deny and she felt, in a strange way, that he was responsible for vanishing the terrible sickness that had seemed to occupy so much of her mind as of lately.

She began to dream of him too. At first it began innocently, and then progressed into something more dangerous.

White hair, replaced by brown.

* * *

 

"Hey," she said one night. "I can't sleep."

"That's okay," Zenzou said. He was reading a novel with a small lamp lit next to him. "Take your time."

Slowly, she sat up straight.

"You know, I don't know what I would do without you," she admitted.

This caught his attention. He lowered his book.

"What makes you say this?"

"I dunno. Just felt like it," she said.

"Well, Miss Just-Felt-Like-It, I feel the same exact way." His smile was small, but she could feel it emanating from his soul. This wasn't something she needed glasses to see.

"Can you read aloud... whatever you're reading?"

"Sure," he said.

She could never quite remember what the story was about, but the low rumble of his voice quickly lulled her into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

 

Sacchan knew Tsukuyo liked Gintoki, but this actually never was discussed when the two of them met each other by coincidence. But Sacchan wasn't petty enough to dismiss a good friendship just because they liked the same guy. She might have been possessive at times, but she wasn't malicious enough to wreck havoc on one of the kindest woman she's ever met, even if Tsukuyo hides such details behind clouds of smoke and scowls. Sacchan wasn't stupid. She only knew what she wanted at the time.

To be honest, if Gintoki had to choose between the two, Tsukuyo probably would be the first one to hand him over to Sacchan.

Sacchan isn't sure how she feels about that.

"I haven't see you for a long time," Tsukuyo said warmly as Sacchan sat across from her in a small diner booth. "You must have been busy."

"Yeah, sort of," she said. "I was... sick."

Tsukuyo was instantly concerned. "Really? I did think your injuries were serious but I didn't know how bad it was... "

"I'm better now, Tsukki." Immediate assurance was necessary to prevent further probing. Sacchan could never hate this woman for more than ten seconds at a time. Pretend to, yes, but not truly.

_If I have to give up Gintoki to anyone else, better her than me._

"Good. I'm glad you're well. It looks like you've changed a little, too."

"Really? How so?"

Tsukuyo considered it. "You seem calmer. More open."

* * *

 

"You don't have to go, you know."

"I've imposed myself on you for too long," Sacchan said, smiling.

"There's no such thing as imposing when we're the last ones left from our school." Zenzou seemed to struggle for more words before he sighed. "I guess I'll see you around, Sarutobi."

This  _has_  to be a turning point, she thought to herself. This is where something is approaching its ending, but it is up to her entirely to start a new beginning.

Zenzou still hasn't released her right hand. Her callouses from handling sharp kunai have softened after weeks of inaction, but she can feel his own pressing against her fingers. She wouldn't have known if Gintoki had such things in his own palms. Nor is she interested in that particular subject anymore.

"I've always liked your bangs," she said softly. Her left hand lifted up the hair covering his eyes, and she reads everything she needs to know in his expression.

Trepidation. Respect. Mutual trust.

 _Love_.

Slowly, she rose up to meet her lips with his.

Their first kiss is perfect. It doesn't matter anymore that she's got baggage - hell, so does he. Arguably, his is heavier, but he can carry the weight for the two of them.

When he pulls back, he whispers, "Stay with me. We can work together... I'll always have your back, and you can protect mine, too.  _I promise_."

She doesn't have to think twice, this time.

* * *

 

_the end_

 


End file.
